The Thief (3 page)

She took his hand in hers. “You forgot to light the lamp.” In the dim light, she saw only a flash of a smile, but it warmed her like the sun.

Cedron squeezed her hand. “I was wondering why it was so dark in here.”

She picked up the lamp and pulled at the wick. “We’re almost out of oil.”

“And everything else.” He pushed himself to his feet. “Did you find work today?”

Find work? Her chest constricted. Disguising herself as a boy was bad. Stealing with Dismas was worse. But lying to Cedron made her feel like the dirt under her feet. Maybe she should tell him the truth now that she had sworn to stop.

The sinister voice stopped her.
He’d turn away from you. He loves the law even more than he loves you.

The voice was right. If she told him, he would never forgive her. He loved the God of Abraham more than their father loved gambling, more than their mother loved wine. She’d have to lie like she’d been lying for months. But after tonight, the lying would stop.

“I did some weaving for the oil merchant’s wife again today.” Her voice quivered. She might be the best pickpocket in Jerusalem, but she was a terrible liar.

Cedron turned his face toward her, his eyes vacant pools in the dim light. “Weaving? You?”

Nissa huffed. “I can weave.”

“Of course you can, sister.” His hand searched for her shoulder and gave her a little squeeze. “But you can’t weave well.”

She shoved him, hard. “Well enough to earn this.” She brushed the coin Dismas had given her over her brother’s fingers.

“A shekel for a day’s work?”

Her heart pounded, and her hand trembled. He didn’t believe her.

But he smiled and dug a hand into his belt. “Then we are rich!” He poured a stream of coins into her hands: a bronze as,
five quadrans, and at least ten copper lepta. Enough to buy barley for Amit and food for several days.

“Cedron!” She counted the money again. With the shekel, it was a small fortune. “Tell the truth. Did you sing again? Did the men at the gate pay you to stop?”

Cedron grinned and shook his head. “No singing. The men of Jerusalem fasted and prayed for forgiveness today. The Lord inspired them to be generous.”

Nissa tucked the coins into her belt. “Generous would be a new feeling for most of them.” But at least Cedron had begged today instead of sitting at the temple, listening to the rabbis teach and the revolutionaries complain about the Romans. “Does Abba know?”

“About the money? Am I an idiot as well as blind?”

“And Mama?”

He snorted. “Haven’t seen her.”

Nissa pulled him out the door of the house. She would have to hurry. “Your coins will be enough to get us some flour and oil, maybe some fish to break the fast.”

Cedron shuffled beside her. “I’ll come with you. We need to spend it all before Abba comes home.”

Nissa hooked a basket over her arm and pulled open the creaking door. “Don’t worry, we will. And when he comes home—”

“I know. I won’t tell him about the silver.”

“We won’t have it long enough for him to find out.” She took Cedron’s hand and hurried through the front gate and out into the street. Gilad would come for the rent tomorrow, and she’d be ready. She’d go to Siloam early and wash. She’d wear her other tunic, the one that almost fit her. She’d offer him warm bread—with honey, if she could get it cheap.

Maybe Gilad will see that a good wife is more than a pretty face.

At twenty years, her parents had given up hope of passing her off to another family. She’d never been pretty, not even close. Her hair was frizzy instead of flowing, her face was pointed,
and her eyes, although fringed with thick lashes, were small and almost black. Not only was she plain, her body wasn’t made for bearing children. Most men took one look at her tiny stature and narrow hips and shook their heads.

That was before she opened her mouth. She’d heard the reproaches from her would-be suitors to her disappointed father.

Nissa has a sharp tongue.

She’s disrespectful.

Your daughter would do well to soften her words if she wants a husband.

Nissa lifted her chin and straightened her shoulders. But not with Gilad. She would be respectful, modest, hardworking. She’d show him she was exactly what he needed in a wife.

They reached the lower market as the dusk crept over the city. The streets were emptying, the merchants starting to pack up their wares. They had just enough time.

Cedron sniffed the air. “How about some figs?” He faced the booth selling dried figs, apricots, and raisins. “I heard the caravan from Damascus come in today.”

Nissa left him at the fruit seller and hurried toward the grain merchant. Her mouth watered at thoughts of a good dinner. She filled her basket with barley for Amit, wheat, and oil. Just a few coins left, but enough for some dried fish and a miniscule jar of honey. She turned the corner and ran into a solid chest covered in fine linen. Smooth hands closed over her bare arms.

“Nissa. I’ve been looking for you.”

Gilad. His hands warmed her skin and the scent of sandalwood embraced her. Her heart faltered a beat as she gazed up at his handsome face. Dark hair, dark skin, captivating dark eyes. The same eyes she thought of as she drifted to sleep at night. If only she’d taken the time to wash.

Gilad released her arms and wiped his hands down his pristine tunic. “Your father is behind on his rent.”

Good Jewish women didn’t speak to men in the street, but everyone in the lower city knew Nissa took care of the household
of Noach, including paying the rent. She lowered her chin and glanced up at him like she’d seen other, prettier women do. “Have you asked my father about it?”

“I did, my sweet. But he just lost at dice. Again.”

My sweet.
Her heart galloped. Maybe there was hope. If he could just see her when she wasn’t so filthy. “I don’t have it tonight, but if you come to the house tomorrow?”

Gilad stepped closer and ducked his head close to hers. “Your father has used up all his chances with me.” His voice flowed like honey. “Have it tomorrow, my dove, or I’ll have to ask your father for another form of payment.”

Nissa’s cheeks heated, and her lips curved into a smile. He didn’t mean it, but it was a start. He’d come tomorrow, and she’d be ready. He’d see what a good wife she could be.

Pounding hooves, louder than her heart, pulled her gaze from Gilad’s brilliant eyes toward the center of the market. Shoppers and merchants scattered and shouted. A Roman horse rounded the corner and thundered toward them.

She searched the emptying street.
Where is Cedron?

There he stood, across the marketplace. The horse bore down on him, but his feet remained planted in the dust. He reached out, his hands searching for her as men and women rushed past him. No one paused to help the blind man to safety.

“Cedron!” Nissa looked to Gilad, but he made no move toward Cedron. Nissa dropped her basket and sprinted toward her brother, directly into the path of the charging horse.

The rider saw her and pulled back, shouting as his horse reared. She threw her body on top of Cedron’s. They tumbled to the ground as the horse reared again and plunged over them. Nissa covered her head with her hands. Hooves hammered the dirt just a handbreadth from her face. A searing pain sliced through her shoulder. She closed her eyes and clung to Cedron.

The pounding hooves stopped, and dust choked her throat. Cedron stirred beside her. He pushed himself up, his hands searching over her body. “Nissa, are you hurt?”

She kept her eyes closed, biting down on her lip to keep from crying out.

Sandaled feet slapped the ground near her head. Cedron was pulled away from her with a grunt.

“What’s the matter with you, Jew? Are you blind?”

A deep voice—Aramaic with a Roman accent.

No, it can’t be.
A new rush of fear swept through her as rough hands closed over her arms and pulled her to sitting. Pain shot through her shoulder. She gasped and opened her eyes. It was him, the redheaded centurion.

He propped her back against the wall. “Are you hurt? Speak to me, girl!”

He was so close she couldn’t take a breath. He knelt beside her, his crested helmet lying in the dust. He’d been this close only hours before; surely he’d recognize her. Fear weakened her limbs. She swayed as the walls and ground tilted. All that kept her from tilting with them was the Roman’s rough grip.

He wasn’t much older than Cedron, but she’d never seen a face like his. It wasn’t Roman; she’d seen many of those. As if his blue eyes and red hair weren’t enough to make him stand out amid the dark, bearded men of Jerusalem, his skin was light tan, lighter than roasted almonds. And sprinkled everywhere—on his crooked nose, over high cheekbones and smooth jaw—were freckles, like stars scattered over the night sky.

He must come from the far reaches of the empire, but the insignia on his breastplate and the crimson plume on his helmet bore witness: he was a Roman centurion, and a dangerous one. She knew that from experience. Any minute he could realize who she was.

No flash of recognition crossed his face. “What kind of idiot runs in front of a horse like that?” His voice was a growl, but his hand was gentle as he pushed aside her torn cloak to expose a crescent-shaped slice on her shoulder, oozing blood. “You could have been killed.”

The Roman turned on Cedron. “And you! What were you
doing, standing in the road like a—” He stopped abruptly as Cedron raised his sightless eyes. The anger left the Roman’s voice. “You’d be dead if not for this girl.”

Nissa struggled to stand. A crowd stood all around her, leaning in, watching. She had to get away from this man. A wave of dizziness overwhelmed her.

Gilad shoved through the crowd and groveled to the Roman. “I saw the whole thing. You couldn’t avoid them.”

The Roman twisted to Gilad, scowling. “This woman needs looking after. Where is her husband?”

Gilad barked out a laugh. “Nissa? A husband? No man here is that brave.”

“Or that desperate,” a voice from the back called out.

A few men in the crowd snickered.

Nissa’s dizziness retreated, but in its place, anger flared. How dare they laugh at her, these men who had watched from safety as Cedron was almost trampled? She glared at the crowd, pulling her small body up. “Brave?” Her voice rose. “Braver than you! You cowardly dogs would have let Cedron die in the street.”

The Roman let out a snort.

She turned on him. He was no better than the others. “And you! This is our home, not the Hippodrome. If you hadn’t been tearing through the streets—I’m not the idiot. You are!”

Silence fell over the knot of men. Their mouths dropped open, and they all looked to the Roman.

He stared at her.

Nissa slapped her hand over her mouth.
Did I just call a Roman centurion an idiot?

The centurion raised his amber brows to Gilad. “I see what you mean.” To Nissa he said, “Go home, girl, before you get in more trouble.”

Nissa let out her breath in a rush. What was wrong with her? She needed to get away from this man, not insult him. She grabbed Cedron’s hand and searched the street for her basket.

The centurion frowned at the group of men. “I’m chasing two thieves—a man and a half-grown boy.”

Fear burned in Nissa’s chest. She pulled at Cedron’s hand.
Please, we need to leave. Now.
But Cedron stayed, his face turned to the Roman.

“The older one was tall and dark, maybe Greek. The young one—he’s called Mouse—he’s a runt, but he’s fast.”

The men in the crowd murmured and shook their heads.

The Roman reached up to the corner horn of his saddle and swung himself up with one smooth jump. He gathered the reins in one hand. “There’s a shekel for whoever turns them in. Get word to me at the barracks—ask for Longinus.” He circled his horse toward the upper city. “You,” he called down to Nissa. “Little wildcat.”

She ducked her head down.
Don’t look at him.

“Put some oil on that wound. And keep your brother off the street.” He kicked his mount and galloped back toward the upper city.

Cedron fell into step beside her, his sightless eyes followed the receding thud of hooves on dirt. “He won’t find those thieves.” He shook his head. “No one here would help a Roman, even for a shekel.”

Nissa scooped up her basket, took Cedron’s arm, and hurried toward home. Relief warred with worry. The Roman hadn’t recognized her, and Cedron was right. No one here would help a Roman. Anyway, he wouldn’t catch Mouse because there would be no more Mouse and no more stealing.

What about Dismas? He risked his life for me.
She pushed the rising guilt away. She’d miss his quick smile and his jokes, but it was too dangerous. Her days as Mouse were done.

The trumpets sounded from the temple walls, signaling the end of the day. The Jews of the city were praying over their evening meal, but Nissa didn’t hope for prayers and the sharing of bread with her parents. If they were lucky, Abba wouldn’t come home at all, and Mama would sink into her usual wine-induced
sleep. They could eat their food in peace, and Nissa could tend to her aching shoulder.

Cedron stopped her in front of their courtyard gate. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“It’s just a scratch.”
A scratch that will scar and probably ache for months.

He tipped his head sideways. “They’re home.”

She held her breath and listened. Yes, their parents were home, and Abba wasn’t happy. She reached into her belt for the shekel. “Maybe you should hold this.”

Cedron nodded as she slipped it into his hand. It would be safer with him. He pinched her sleeve to stop her before she stepped forward. “Nissa,” he whispered, “remember, don’t make him angry.”

“I know, I know. Don’t worry.” She wouldn’t this time. No matter what he said, she wouldn’t let it get to her. Her wayward tongue had landed her in enough trouble tonight. Nissa pushed at the gate, juggling the barley and oil. Good, the cooking fire was lit. Bread might calm her father.

Mama jumped up as they entered, looking with relief at the wheat in Nissa’s basket. With thin, graying hair and deep furrows on her brow and cheeks, she looked more like a grandmother than a mother.